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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892253">London's Burning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95'>TawnyOwl95</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Cold Open Scene: The Blitz, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:14:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Back at the bookshop Aziraphale contemplates Crowley's burned feet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>GOFWW Guess the Author Round 1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>London's Burning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the guess the author challenge in the Good Omen's Fic Writer's Workshop. </p><p>Big thanks to <a href="https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/redundant_angel/pseuds/redundant_angel">Redundant_Angel</a><br/>and<br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley">The_Bentley</a><br/>for setting it up.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley's feet are burned bad enough that he's no longer bothering to hide his scales. Aziraphale runs a thumb carefully over the delicate arch of Crowley's instep. Crowley hisses, momentarily lifting his head from the back of the sofa. He's splayed out on it like he's been hung on the world's most relaxed crucifix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale kneels at his feet like a Magdalene in rolled up shirt sleeves, debating whether using a divine miracle to heal a divine wound is a bad idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's fine." Crowley grumbles at the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not fine. Outside sirens scream and bells clang. Dust covers both of them. The scent of smoke clings to everything as London burns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale burns too. Hot and bright as the church’s lectern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had dropped his battered leather bag by the coat stand as he helped Crowley over the threshold. Dropped it as though it didn't contain some of his rarest and most adored volumes. Dropped it as though they aren't as important as the comfort and well being of the demon on his sofa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They aren't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had saved Crowley. He'd forgotten about the books. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which would have been, well, devastating, but not quite the emotional catastrophe that Aziraphale currently finds himself in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He forgot about the books. Crowley didn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Aziraphale can't deal with how alight he is over that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's burning up with it. Thoughts and emotions chasing each other around and around, licking sparks into an inferno of hope and fear beneath his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to scratch his corporation off. But that would be worse, because at least when they're like this their flesh acts as a barrier. Or it used too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humans touch yes, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> are not human. Anything they could do together in these bodies is a fraction of the intimacies they could reach without them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale has never been half undressed and on his knees caressing Crowley's naked foot before though.  Cradling his vulnerable ankle and facing the fragility of him. This isn't lust, or not </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> lust, anyway. This is so much worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale wants to cry because if this is what consecrated ground does to Crowley, he can't stand the thought of Holy Water being anywhere near him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Angel?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale jerks his head up. How long had he been massaging the ball of Crowley's foot in silence? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We'd better not," Aziraphale whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Chance a miracle." Aziraphale places Crowley's foot back in the basin of very normal water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can't risk touching his essence to any part of Crowley. He can’t risk handing over the Holy Water he’s been hoarding since that day in the park. Not yet. Not today. Maybe not ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he starts touching now he'll never let go. And the fire in Aziraphale's soul would tear through both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll fetch some cream. For your foot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale leaves the room. He leans back against the door and puts his face in his hands. Even as the water leaks from his eyes he burns.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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